


In a sea of orange

by suzunofuu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Autumn, Boys Kissing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Kageyama can't live his life alone, M/M, Pining, Sleepy Cuddles, Stupid ass fluff, Team as Family, Team trip to Spain, barcelona, travelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 15:36:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21394552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzunofuu/pseuds/suzunofuu
Summary: Kageyama would be enjoying the holidays with the karasuno team members way more if he had his partner with him.( Tradition: La castañada / Country: Spain )
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 5
Kudos: 138





	In a sea of orange

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the "haikyuu around the world" collection 😊
> 
> [Here's the link to the challenge's twitter ❤️](https://twitter.com/hqatw)

Their feet rustle their way past the crowded ramblas, crackling the mantle of dusk-graded leaves. They’re chatting lightly, looking for a bar to sneak into and settle down for lunch.

At this hour and day, practically all of the establishments are empty or about to open, giving them the option to be picky, to be demanding. However, as they walk past streets, ramblas and plazas, their stomachs start to rumble insistently and the captain orders them to pick a place quickly.

It’s unusually chilly outside; the weather forecast made them pack less warm clothes than they would have otherwise, therefore they spent half of their first holiday’s trip buying coats, sweaters, thick socks and even thicker trousers.

Kageyama stays at the back of the group, without paying attention to their chatter, thoughts and concern somewhere else. His chin is tucked in the collar of his parka, eyes watching the dry leaves splatter out of his way as he quicks forward, missing the view, ignoring the warm, welcoming atmosphere of Barcelona.

When they finally choose a restaurant, he can’t concentrate on anything; neither the menu, the food they order, the loud chitchat of near tables, the rain of leaves outside the restaurant, his friends cackling and sharing stories… It’s too much and not enough. He could be laughing with Tanaka and Nishinoya, listening to university stories from their former third years, or sharing some typical dessert with Yachi, who still seems to want to include him in the conversation although he’s making no effort to keep up with it. He could, yet he isn’t. And he probably won’t.

He feels a little sorry for Yachi. Everyone’s oblivious to his sulking—or at least they’re pretending to be, giving him the space he needs—but Yachi still tries to bring him to the present. To the architecture around them, to the loud and extroverted people of this country, to the smell of roasted chestnuts coming from the little stalls on the corner of the streets; to the sculptures they walk past, the colorful street art, the romantic shops, the dance exhibitions… There’s so much going around him, and he knows he could be enjoying it. He knows he can look up and have fun with everyone else, but it’s the second day of their vacation and the one person he wanted to share this with isn’t here.

Every thought leads back to him. It’s embarrassing, really. It’s not like he’s dead, or like he didn’t want to come with them—he’s two subway stops away, for fuck’s sake—but Kageyama can’t stop thinking this would be so much more worth it if they could experience it together.

At some point after lunch, while they stroll some more and snoop into a library, Sugawara taps his shoulder, getting his eyes to pry away from the same fashion magazine he’s been staring at for the past five minutes.

“Tobio,” he starts, his voice gentle and understanding. “Why don’t you go back to the house? You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself.”

Kageyama flushes a bright, cherry red, his scowl deepening. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve been pouting all day,” Suga chuckles. “C’mon, it’s okay. Don’t force yourself to be here.”

“I’m not forcing myself,” he lies. He kind of is forcing himself to be with them today. He was so excited about this trip that he didn’t even consider that he could stay back in the house, where he actually wanted to be, yet the thought that he might be spoiling everyone’s fun mortifies him.

His eyes bore back into the magazine, avoiding Sugawara’s.

Suga doesn’t insist any longer, shrugging a shoulder and turning away from him. “Suit yourself, then.”

Kageyama sulks some more, leaning out of view and against a wall under some wooden stairs, staring around at what must be the kids’ section in the library. He can’t understand nor read any of these books. He’s seen some Japanese characters in dictionaries and “how to write hiragana/katakana” exercise books, but everything else is foreign and new. He has a note in his mobile phone with basic Spanish phrases (and google translate always ready in case of an emergency) though he cannot communicate much further than that.

At times like this, sitting down on a children-size, lime colored puff and being somewhere so different from home, surrounded by not only strangers, but strangers whose language he cannot understand and who act very differently to him, he wishes he had someone familiar by his side. And he does. He has his team with him, which is extraordinary. Who would have thought they would do this trip together? It’s delightful to be able to live this with them, and yet he yearns for that extra special presence near him—loud and annoying and pressing an unnecessary chuckle against his shoulder, tugging from his hand wherever they go, always leading him on.

He yearns for that extra intimacy he sometimes hesitates to show in the streets back home. Nobody knows them here. He doesn’t have to fear that his parents, or his teachers, or anyone in his class will suddenly materialize next to him while he steals a kiss or a mere hug. He was also kind of excited because they’re more open to people’s sexualities, here in Spain. He’s read stories, both good and bad, and although the bad ones are scary, the good ones filled his heart with confetti and rainbows and glitter. He can have a bad story back home, too. Having a good one is a whole other thing.

He’s also aware that by tomorrow everything could go back to normal—probably, hopefully—and that every karasuno member will be out and about through Barcelona’s roads as if the past two messy and confusing days hadn’t happened.

Kageyama sighs, putting a small children’s book back where it was, sinking deeper into the puff. He belongs right here, in the children’s area, grumping the day away.

Yachi comes find him when everyone’s leaving, his name and whatever she was going to say cut off her tongue when she sees him. What a sight he must be, to make Yachi snort amusingly at him.

She takes a sit on one of the puffs and tries to gain his attentio by patting his knee. “Kageyama-kun, we’re leaving.”

Kageyama nods, groaning involuntarily.

Again, Yachi snorts—this time hiding her smile at the back of her hand. Kageyama frowns as he stands, hands buried deep in his pockets, and definitely does _not_ blush when Yachi adds, “Why don’t you go back to the apartment? I’ll tell everyone for you.”

Kageyama tries to look at her, he really does, but his eyes stay on the floor when he speaks, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome! Oh, and don’t get lost!”

Kageyama bats a hand at her as she leaves. “Yeah, yeah…”

For some reason, he’s glad he doesn’t have to be the one to tell the team he’s making his way back without them. He knows the image he’s been giving today, above all in the past twenty-something minutes. He’s a grown up child, that’s what he is. A grown up child that’s going back home to his boyfriend because he cannot spend a day out of his sight, apparently. Fortunately for him, he will deal with everyone’s mockery and teasing tomorrow morning.

Maybe it’s because Yachi jinxed it, but he does get lost in the subway, and later on trying to find their street. Or maybe it was destiny, because he stumbles upon a street stall that sells roasted chestnuts and baked sweet potatoes, which’s smell and promised warmth makes his whole body crave for a taste of it.

He buys a pair of paper cones filled with chestnuts to the brim, and two boiling sweet potatoes wrapped in newspaper. The woman also offers him some type of small marzipan buns covered in pine nuts, that she compliments by repeating, “_Panellets_, _panellets_, very typical! Typical from here!”, in a very broken and rough English, to which Kageyama answers with an even messier accent, “Thank you,” since he doesn’t remember the Spanish word for _thank you_.

He lets the woman take the money from his hands after the third try at getting the right amount of bills and coins. She laughs warmly and says something that sounds reassuring but could perfectly be an insult, for all Kageyama knows.

By 7pm he’s already home, the sun setting far off between buildings and mountains, tinting the sky with a brutal orange and soft shades of red. He puts the bag with everything he’s bought down on the kitchen’s counter, turns on the fireplace and makes his way up the stairs of the duplex and towards his room, heart pumping soft yet insistent, eager to be back where he’s wanted to be all day long.

He opens the door slowly, sneaking in as silently as possible into the dark bedroom. He hears the soft puffing sounds Hinata makes as he exhales and his heart leaps inside his body, content and overwhelmed.

After spending their first half a day in Barcelona buying warm clothes to keep up with the weather, Hinata fell ill with light fever and dry coughs, keeping him and his roommate awake most of the night. They prepared him lemon and honey tea, pressed a wet rag on his sweaty forehead and bought a pack of 50 paper masks (since apparently the people in this country don’t cover themselves when ill, and that’s the minimum unit they could find) to cover his face. They also put a bottle of premade soup in the fridge in case he was hungry, and left him to rest, some of them very, very reluctantly. Mostly Kageyama.

Luckily, it seems that his coughing has ceased and that he has been able to sleep tight through the day, judging by how comfortable he looks curled up under the eiderdown, wet rag flopped down on the pillow, near his head.

It is selfish how much Kageyama wants to wake him up; see his eyes open slowly, his face unconsciously snuggling into his touch. He’s needy and pathetic, he knows, but he’s been worried all day long, thoughts bulleting back to him every chance they got. He gets to be a little selfish after the awful day Hinata has made him go through. It’s all the airhead’s fault, really. Nothing to do with him being unable to live on his own.

He sits by the edge of the bed and his hand immediately reaches out to touch what little of Hinata’s face peeks out of the blankets. One of his fingers runs across his forehead and down to his cheek. The warmth seeping off his skin alarms Kageyama, who proceeds to press his whole palm on Hinata’s flushed face, checking his body heat.

Hinata stirs in his sleep, face scrunching up uncomfortably. He groans as he blinks his eyes open, as if it’s taking him a lot of effort to stare into the dark in search of whatever’s bothering him.

His voice is croaky when he mumbles, “You’re cold.”

Kageyama puts his hand away and stares longingly at him, a little disappointed when Hinata’s eyes close again. “You’re still warm.”

It takes Hinata half a minute to even react to his voice. He wriggles a little, pushing the covers further up his body, and cracks an eye open to look at him. “Why’d you come back?”

“What do you mean _why_. I came back for you, dumbass.”

Hinata whimpers pitifully, what could be a word coiling his tongue but not making it fully out. Kageyama takes it as a thank you. He combs his fingers through Hinata’s hair and earns a soft hum, a soft mewl that has him smiling fondly.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, letting his hand reach down to cup the side of his face. Hinata gives a tiny nod. “You think you can come downstairs? I bought us something.”

Hinata groans out his complaint, and keeps on letting out tiny bothered sounds as Kageyama helps him get up and on his feet, down the stairs and onto a side of the sofa. He curls into a ball under one of the blankets and waits, mask tucked back over his face, while Kageyama brings whatever he’s bought to the coffee table.

Hinata smells it before he sees it, and his stomach quickly awakens, grunting with wanton at the prospect of being finally fed.

Kageyama takes out the chestnuts, the sweet potato and the wrapped paper plate with the pine nut sweets. Meanwhile, Hinata’s sleepy eyes stare out the window to the golden city—to the leaves falling, the people strolling, the color of the sky dying the buildings with its shades. He feels a little guilty that Kageyama has made his way back here when the outside world looks as stunningly beautiful as it does right now, only because he was trapped here.

Something taps his thigh and he looks down to it. Kageyama is offering him an open hand with one of the sweets on it, awaiting.

“Try one. They’re good.”

Hinata loves all types of food, but even if this one unknown catalonian sweet were the one to make him question his tasting buds or his poor judgement, he wouldn't have the energy to complain or say _no_. Instead, he slopes towards Kageyama, tugs his mask down and opens his mouth a little. Kageyama rolls his eyes and feeds him the _panellet_, flinging his hand away when he feels wetness on his fingers.

“Don’t be gross!”

Hinata munches without saying anything, but Kageyama can see a small smirk tempting his lips.

“Dumbass,” he mutters to himself, but feeds Hinata another sweet. He grabs one for himself and takes a fist of warm chestnuts out of the paper cone to start to peel one. He shoulders Hinata’s weight off him and offers him a non-pealed half. “C’mon, eat some.”

Hinata looks down at the chestnut on his hand, pouting. “Do I have to peel them?”

“Yes. I’m not your servant.”

Hinata whimpers. “But I’m _ill_…” 

Kageyama snorts, amused, but decides to ignore Hinata’s very persisting, very pleading puppy eyes piercing holes at the side of his face.

They eat in silence for some minutes, their eyes fixed on their fingers, listening to the soft crackling of the fire near them, and the _tap tap tap_ of the trees’ branches against the windows. At seeing how slowly Hinata is eating and how he’s sulking, Kageyama drops a few peeled chestnuts on the coffee table in front of him, without saying a word. Hinata looks up at him, his frown deepening.

“You’re being too nice,” Hinata mumbles to himself, ceasing to try to peel the chestnut on his hands. He glances up at Kageyama, sheepish. “You were angry this morning.”

“I was _not_,” Kageyama snaps at him, giving him a hard stare. He blushes at seeing Hinata’s saddened expression, ashamed of his behavior. “I wasn’t mad at you, alright?”

“Oh.”

“I just–“ He stares down at the food in front of him so intently he could burn the chestnuts all over again. “I wanted you to come with us, is all.”

Hinata's been so, so tired all day. He didn’t even leave the bed for lunch, even as much as his stomach protested. He had his cup of tea on his nightstand, and that’s all he needed to survive the fever that was currently destroying his defenses and sipping off his energy. He didn’t even have time to think about how much he wanted to roam the city, to eat the local food, to have fun with his friends and, above all, to experience his first vacation trip with Kageyama. However, now that he’s a little lucid and Kageyama is right beside him, with local food to eat and fire burning behind them, the gratitude dawns on him and makes him giddy and soft.

He’s so glad Kageyama has come back to be with him, because even if he didn’t have the strength to be coherent for longer than what it took him to go to the bathroom, he’s felt a little lonely throughout the day. He guesses Kageyama has felt the same way, too. At least, the greediest part of him wishes he has.

Kageyama stiffens a little when Hinata drops his head down onto his shoulder, snuggling closer to his body.

One of Hinata’s arms loop around his, pulling his body tight against his, seeking his warmth. Kageyama tries not to look down at him, because if he did he’d probably want to kiss him breathless, and Hinata’s ill, after all. He doesn’t want to risk getting sick, too. It’s particularly hard to ignore those urges when he can feel Hinata’s very big, adoring eyes roaming his face and his fingers moving delicately across his arm, asking for his attention.

Hinata is remarkably intense or insisting when he wants Kageyama to give him something, no matter what that may be—a hug, a kiss, a _yes_, a _no_, a toss, a minute or an hour alone—and Kageyama always ends up obliging. Hinata knows this and uses Kageyama’s weakness to his own advantage. He has no rush in making Kageyama notice him, because he knows he will at some point, and then he’ll surrender to all of his demands.

He takes his time staring up at him. His eyes are lidded and feel heavy, head feverish. He still sees a little foggy, but that doesn’t stop him from targeting Kageyama’s lips as he continues peeling the chestnuts in silence, without bringing any to his mouth. Hinata sucks his own lips into his mouth and bites on them, his body tingling with the need of having Kageyama devouring him. He’s missed his heat next to him all day and now here he is, keeping him company when he could be out in the world having fun. He smells like his usual shampoo, like burnt firewood, like cold humidity, like _Kageyama_.

He has to close his eyes for a moment to enjoy his presence. He hears the rustling of leaves and the wind brushing their windows, the _crunch crunch crunch_ of the chestnut’s shells cracking open, the gurgle of the heating system awakening. He feels cozy and sheltered and loved, and it’s all thanks to Kageyama. It’s incredible how he always makes him feel this way, even as grumpy and distant as he may seem at times. Hinata took his own time to see the good in him, the devotion and sincerity under all the pretense Kageyama’s built himself with, and ever since he hasn’t been able to unsee it. There’s no way he can ignore everything Kageyama says when he’s not saying anything at all. Just by being here, Kageyama’s speaking loud and clear. Hinata thinks he might be a little too in love with him.

Kageyama ends up giving in to Hinata’s persistent stare and turns toward him, bopping their noses together tenderly. Hinata gives a soft smile that Kageyama can only see reflected on his eyes, magnifying his longing to kiss him. Hinata makes the decision for him, tugging at his arm and leaning up, only slightly in his tiredness.

Kageyama submits to him—to his cuteness, to his adoring eyes, his beautifully flushed face. He tugs Hinata’s mask down and seals a kiss to his parted lips, earning a contented, heavy sigh from him. Hinata doesn’t let him go too far away after the first tiny peck, hands grabbing him more firmly and face following after his when he tries to pull away, yearning for more.

“You’re gonna get me sick,” Kageyama mumbles against Hinata’s mouth, before pressing back against it.

Hinata hums in acknowledgement, but doesn’t stop moving his lips against his. And it’s not like Kageyama is going to stop him. Not when he’s as tender and sweet as he is now.

At some point, Hinata ends up curled against his arm, legs across Kageyama’s thighs and head rested on Kageyama’s shoulder, allowing him to hold his weight and maneuver him however he likes. Kageyama pampers little kisses to Hinata’s sleepy mouth, to his rosy cheeks, all over his forehead and to his closed eyes, softly. His free hand wanders up and down the side of Hinata’s body, over his hip and waist and ribs, feeling the fluffy fabric of his sweater, keeping him close to him.

Kageyama thinks about how open Hinata is with him every day—how trusting, how comfortable—above all today, and suddenly he’s feeling overwhelmed and has to press his face against Hinata’s neck, hiding his embarrassment. He loves that Hinata trusts him in every possible way, as much as to be this vulnerable and defenseless in front of him, with no strength to fight if necessary, with no type of fear. He might as well be giving Kageyama his life, without an ounce of doubt that Kageyama will treat him kindly. Kageyama loves him too damn much. Sometimes he can’t bear with it.

At feeling Kageyama’s arms fasten, his breath on his collarbones, Hinata wraps his own arm around him, chuckling quietly, tired. Kageyama’s lips suck a hickey on the bare skin of his neck; he purrs contentedly, nuzzling at whichever part of his body he can reach, a signal that he can keep going if he wants. “Mmm, ‘Yama…”

His little voice makes Kageyama lean away to look at him, brushing the hair off his forehead. His fingers trail across his skin and against his scalp, thumb delineating the curve of his brow. “You okay? Need anything?”

Hinata closes his eyes and shifts closer to him. “Sleepy.”

“You need to eat some more.”

“Don’t wanna.”

Kageyama bumps their noses together. “You’re a little kid.”

Hinata offers a little smile that has Kageyama melting. “Yes. Take me to bed.”

Kageyama snorts. He lays Hinata back on the sofa and unwraps his limbs off him so he can stand up. He ignores Hinata’s reproachful eyes as he puts the mask back over the lower half of his face, and offers a helping hand for him to stand up. “As if. Get up, c’mon.”

They get to the bedroom after some whining from Hinata’s part and tugging from Kageyama’s. Hinata flops down to the bed without much care, half of his body ready to slip down to the floor and the other half barely clinging to the bedsheets. Kageyama rolls his eyes and helps him in, slipping under the blankets after Hinata is comfortable, and wrapping a gentle arm around him.

Hinata blushes, cracking his eyes open to stare at him. “You should go to your own bed, Kageyama-kun.”

Kageyama shushes him by snuggling closer, until his lips are pressed to Hinata’s warm forehead and his hand can reach Hinata’s lower back. It’s been a very, very long day, preceded by an even longer, confusing arrival and an eternal flight from Japan. Everyone’s tired yet excited, ready to go out into the world, and even as much as Kageyama wants to enjoy these holidays, he wants to be by Hinata’s side, too, above all when he’s feeling ill. For just a few hours, and for just one day, he thinks they can indulge themselves a little and enjoy the autumn evening together in this bed, in a house far away from their home.

Hinata stares at Kageyama’s resting face for a minute, his hands reaching out to come into contact with his clothes, with his body, fingers curling on Kageyama’s sweater weakly. The warmth of the hearth is spreading through the ventilation system, heating up the rooms. Hinata doesn’t need it, neither the fire’s warmth nor Kageyama’s, even less his own, but he feels so secure and cozy here that he stops himself from complaining.

Outside, there’s seas of orange covering the streets, calling out the magic of the city. Here, the only orange is his, and the only thing that matters is the feeling of Kageyama’s hand rubbing at his lower back lovingly, and his breath ghosting on his forehead.

Everything else can wait.

**Author's Note:**

> This is 200% self-indulgent and stupid and too soft, literal no angst in it (which I miss), but I needed to see them being cozy and lovely in autumn 🙊
> 
> Also yes: I did all this so I could post this drabble, wassup.


End file.
